


A little Absentminded

by solar_celeste



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Birthdays, Coffee Addictions, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Family Fluff, Forgetfulness, To the Max, poor timmy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 15:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solar_celeste/pseuds/solar_celeste
Summary: What can Tim say? He’s been busy, and his birthday just came around a little faster than he expected.





	A little Absentminded

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iwritewhenever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwritewhenever/gifts).



> For one of my closest friends: have a fantastic birthday! 
> 
> And for Tim Drake’s near birthday.

“I’ll have a trenta cappuccino with double shot espresso, please.” Tim says into his phone, swerving out of the way of a passing semi. 

His alarm had gone off late this morning, allowing him to oversleep the one time he allowed himself some rest. Of course, in all reality that should be a _good_ thing, but busy schedules full of WE meetings and endless case work meant otherwise. Now, barreling through traffic and barely making enough time for himself to pull through the Starbucks drive through, he’s going to be ten minutes late to his nine o’clock. 

There isn’t enough coffee for this. 

He fell asleep just short of five that morning and had been woken up by his alarm around eight thirty. Three hours of sleep was typical for him, but not enough for maximum function. It was going to be a _long_ day. 

“Will that be all, sir?” The Starbucks employee asks. Tim nods, before realizing they can’t see him and responding verbally.

“Yes, thank you.” He says, holding his breath as he speeds through a yellow light. _Made it._

The Starbucks line was _way_ to long. The chain of cars wrapped around the building to the parking lot and Tim hurriedly decided to pull into a space and ran inside to grab his drink. It wasn’t his first choice but it was a lot more logical than waiting in that ridiculous line. 

After picking up the precious cargo, it seems each and every traffic light from the coffee shop to WE is red. Like every crosswalk is signaled to benefit the pesky pedestrians. Like Tim did something to piss of whoever was in charge of Gotham’s electrical system. 

When he finally got to the office, walking into his meeting now _fifteen_ minutes late, Lucius gave him a _look_ and nodded to the free chair at the end of the table. 

Tim’s tardiness was even worse this week because not only was he handling his own responsibilities, but he was also filling in for Bruce while the man got some much needed vacation visiting Cass in Hong Kong. It was the least he could do after Bruce cracked that last case for him. 

Besides, what was a little more work?

The meeting ended and the rest of the day flew by. There were so many things to do and so little time. The fax machine was broken and Tim’s laptop ran out of battery _just as he was finishing._ Then his phone started ringing, scaring him and causing him to spill the last bits of his third coffee. All over the spread sheets he _still need to fax._

“What?” He spat into the phone, trying to wipe up some of the mess with his suit coat. He didn’t really care at this point. 

“Hey Timmy, you okay?” Dick asked. He’s always been the one to be overly concerned. Or, out rift so, that is. Bruce would have just analyzed the rest of the conversation, Jason would have been more subtle and Damian wouldn’t have called in the first place. 

Nevertheless, Tim sighs. _Of course Dick calls._

“Sure, what did you need?” He asks, biting his tongue to keep himself from saying anything else. Anything that might get him in trouble. 

“And why do I have to need something?” Dick asks, voice singsong over the car engine in the background. He must be driving somewhere, Tim gathers with his _great_ detective skills. 

“Because if you don’t I’m going to hang up.” He threatens, laying out the papers to dry. Nothing like needing a brother to waste your time. _More like a bother._

“Yeesh, okay I _may_ need something.” He says. Tim can almost picture the man wincing. Tim should be preparing himself for the worst, if Dick is this reluctant to ask.

“ _Dick.”_ He hurries.

“Yeah, okay. I need you to pick up Dami from school.” _Yup,_ Tim internally screams, _that was the worst._ He clenches a fist, closes his eyes, _one, two, three_.

“Sure, he gets out at three right?” Damian’s been doing this interactive summer camp program after he snuck out against Bruce’s wishes.

“The elementary school is two thirty, actually.” Dick says before piping a: “Thanks Timmy!” and promptly hanging up. 

Tim peeks at the clock: 1:42

Just _great._

The school is packed as well, surprise, surprise, and Tim has to shimmy his way into the pick up lane. He pisses of a handful of soccer moms and gets honked at once or twice but… oh well. 

Damian is a ray of sunshine in a crowd of tiny children, scowling as he sees the car and starts slinking his way over to it. Tim has a vague idea it might have to do with the fact that _he’s_ the one driving. The brats just lucky Tim didn’t make him _walk_ home. 

“Drake.” Damian sighs, dropping into the front passenger seat. He knows by now that Tim and Jason won’t make him sit in the back like some infant. Unlike his father, Alfred and Dick, who are _way_ too protective of the Demon.

“Nice to see you too.” Tim sighs, pulling from the curb and making the near thirty minute drive back to the manor.

They spend the first five minutes in silence before Tim flicks the radio on. There’s a song he can’t remember the name of but he knows he liked the tune, so he lets it play out. As the next one begins, he can’t help but be surprised that Damian hasn’t changed the channel, or commented on ‘Drake’s wretched tate in music’. 

Damian was actually being well behaved and _quiet,_ bouncing his leg and staring out of the window. That wasn’t necessarily a _good_ thing either, it probably just mean the boy was scheming. 

“Aright, out.” Tim commanded when he pulled up to the manors entrance. They usually only used the ones in the garage or the one by the decks in the back but the large, main entrance could work for Damian just fine.

“Pennyworth wishes to speak with you.” Damian says as he climbs out of the car. Tim groans, leaning forward and resting his head on the steering wheel. 

The car horn blares from the pressure. 

“I guess I’m coming.” He sighs, turning off the car right there in the middle of the horseshoe driveway _because he can._

Damian, being weird once more, waits until Tim has caught up with him and let’s the older boy enter the manor first. He’s more than half expecting some sort of gooey concoction to roam down on him, but instead, he’s met with a face full of confetti, an earful of party blowers and a chorus of:

“Happy birthday!” 

He looks up immediately, shocked and confused. In the front entryway of the manor there is, Dick, Jason, Alfred, Cass, Bruce, Steph and Babs. Each of them wears a party hat, Bruce and Alfred included (Dicks doing no doubt) and small pieces of confetti litter the floor. 

“What?” He asks. “I thought Damian’s birthday was in August?” 

There’s a moment of silence, before Jason and Stephanie burst out into laughter. 

Everyone else just looks concerned. 

“You, brother.” Cass says. “ _Your_ birthday.” 

Tim’s eyes widen. Had July really been passing that fast? Has he really not looked at a calendar in that long? Or maybe he has and just didn’t realize the correlation between the dates. 

He doesn’t know, and is _slightly_ concerned that maybe all this coffee is getting to him. Still, it isn’t until later, when their seating around the kitchen island, eating cake and sharing embarrassing ‘Tim’ stories, that he realizes something:

He wasn’t sure how old this made him.


End file.
